The Death Of Magic
by Lilith the Queen
Summary: Just an evil little thing I wrote up while I was bored. The premise is that the Death Eaters, together, are more powerful than Voldemort alone. Just go with it.


I push away a branch and it stands before me. The Castle. They say it used to be some kind of private school, many years ago. 

I shrug my backpack over my shoulders and press on. The others are going to be here in an hour, and I want to set up camp before they do. I guess it's sort of petty, but it's a big thing for me. Everyone else in the camping group is from the city, and none of them know how to pitch a tent. 

There's a cabin right near here. We could use this instead of a bunch of tents. I dump my backpack on the ground and step inside. 

As I get used to the darkness, I notice something odd. There's a skeleton of a dog, lying on the floor, but it has three heads. 

I back out and close the door, considering my other options. I could either set up camp, or explore the castle. I've never been in the Castle, and I want to see what it's like. Besides, camp can wait. 

I step in through the door, into a huge hall. "Hello?" 

It's dark, and there are cobwebs. I switch on my flashlight. It plays across the ceiling, onto what looks like a glass dome. There's a three-legged chair in the middle of the floor, with a floppy black hat sitting on it. 

I walk across the marble floor, my footsteps echoing in the hall, and approach the hat. 

I set the flashlight down, pick up the hat, look inside it. It seems to be made out of some kind of silk, and there aren't any parasites. I put it on. 

A voice echoes inside my head, whispering. _You're very brave, aren't you…Adventurous, daring…you belong in…Gryff…_The voice trails off. I set the hat down reverently and pick up the flashlight, walking around. 

Pretty soon, I'm nearly lost. The castle is a winding place, full of rooms. In almost every room I peek into, there are either five beds arranged in a row, or desks and chairs. 

Something rolls away from my foot, clattering against the wall. I pick it up and examine it. It seems to be a human skull. There's a stylized lightning bolt etched into the forehead. 

This would be interesting to study, but it doesn't seem very well-preserved, and if I put it in my backpack, it would probably crumble into dust. I set it on a ledge and continue walking. 

There is a screech, and something flutters. As it comes into the light, I see that it's some kind of animal that looks like a cross between a rooster and a snake. It has glowing red eyes, and it stares at me balefully. 

It must be some kind of mutant, probably from a DNA experiment gone wrong. I stare back at it, until it hops back into the darkness. 

A low, dry chuckle sounds from a corner. "You don't seem scared of my basilisk." 

I whirl around. "Who's there?" 

"I am Lord Voldemort," it says. 

"Pleased to meet you, sir," I say. "Um…exactly what are you? What did this used to be?" 

A hiss. "I an a Dark Lord, a master of the Dark Arts. I was going to take over the world, destroy all that stood for what I hated." 

"Goodness." I lean against the wall. "And you didn't quite accomplish that goal?" 

"This was the home of my greatest enemy. The Boy Who Lived, the child with the scar. I think you saw his skull. He is dead, gone…I have won, but lost." 

"How did that happen?" I ask, more out of politeness than anything. This place isn't radioactive, or the Geiger counter in my wristwatch would have been beeping. I'm guessing it's some sort of dumping ground for mutants, and this one just happens to be completely crazy. 

There is a dry coughing sound. "I waited until my powers were at its peak. I descended upon the school, killed everyone. The boy fought bravely, but bravery is overrated. He was too weak. He lay there, staring at me. If he had groveled, begged for mercy, showed some pain, maybe I would have let him live, made him serve me. That would have been his punishment. But I had to kill him." 

"I certainly hope you're not going to kill me," I comment. 

A sigh. "I cannot work the spell any longer. My power is gone, taken. You…you are not afraid." 

"I'm protected," I say. "My jacket is wired with electromagnetic fields that will activate at the touch of a button." 

"There was a time when that would not have worked. The magical field here was so strong, no Muggle item could function. That was when you humans were superstitious, were frightened. You believed. Your fear gave me power." 

"Right." I wonder what a Muggle is. I know what a magical field is—it's an area where psychic waves travel as quickly as the speed of light. We learned about that in Metaphysics class. It doesn't distort magnetic fields, though, so either he's talking about something completely different or he's just crazy. I'm guessing it's the latter. 

"After I killed the boy, after I defeated the Aurors, I went out into the Muggle world. I was going to take over, make you all my servants. But when I tried—when I was going to awe you with my power, I couldn't. They laughed at me. I tried to kill them, but I found I could not. They had taken my power. They drove me back here, left me to rot in this dungeon. The scene of my greatest triumph is my prison…" A sob. 

"I'm sorry," I say. "Is there anything I could do for you?" Yep, he's definitely crazy. I could probably give him a chocolate bar or something. 

"You can kill me." 

Weird. 

"Kill me. I gave my soul for eternal life, but I have nothing to do with it. Only the heir can kill me. You are the Gryffindor heir." 

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," I tell him. 

"The sword. It's here somewhere…" A rustling, and something metal is pushed into my hand. 

I bring it out into the light and look at it. It's an archaic weapon, but beautiful. The edge is rusty and dulled. "It's quite pretty." 

"Use it!" he commands. "Take the sword and kill me. Stab me, cut me. I have no wish but respite." 

I stare at the sword. I stare at the darkness. 

After what seems to be an eternity, I toss the sword away. It skids on the floor, out of sight. Before the thing can say a word, I walk away. 

I'm not what it was talking about. I'm not the heir to anything. There is no ancient prophecy for me to fulfill, no destiny for me to live. All that was dispelled long ago. 

As I leave, the bird-thing flutters into view again. It's only an animal. I kick away the skull; it's only a skull. As I walk into the hall, I notice the hat. 

I consider ripping it in half. It's only a hat. But for some reason I don't. Maybe, someday, someone will come creeping into the castle, and put on the hat, and touch the skull, and see the bird, and listen to the thing's tale, and take the sword, and have mercy on the thing and kill it. But not me. 

As I walk into the light, I see the others coming into the clearing. Hermione bounds ahead, full of energy. Her frizzy hair bounces with her. She leaps into the open spot and twirls around, laughing. 

Smart girl that she is, Hermione got Ronda, who happens to be her latest girlfriend, to carry her things. She's straggling along behind Hermione, carrying two huge backpacks. Sweat plasters her red short hair to her face. 

Hermione grins at me. "Harry! Got camp set up yet?" 

Finally, Draco hikes into the clearing. His silvery blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail, and my heart leaps at the sight of the man I love. He dumps his backpack on the ground and gives me a grin. 

I hurry forward to help the other Death Eaters set up their tents. 


End file.
